The thing about birthday parties...

I don't remember having a birthday party when I was a kid. Oh, sure. I had cake and presents. But not a full, blown out, crazy mahem birthday party. So, I'm sure all Dr. Phil viewers and Phil himself will nod in textbook familiarity when I say, I tend to overcompensate in making up from my past and forcing a big ass crazy circus hoorah for my children now.

Last year's party was the first party that we invited other kids to. Wait, no for their first birthday, we had a slew of kids at that one too. But they were one year olds, and half were immobile. And just watching them eat cake was entertaining. As if it couldn't get anymore entertaining, after everyone that could have reported us to CPS left, we let Farley in to "clean up" the table. THAT was fun! The second birthday party was just family at a neutral location.

Last year's number 3 was a further step into insanity because the kids had friends over and I rented a bouncy (moonwalk) thingy. It was outside, but it was hot! Regardless, it was a success, everyone was happy. Hot, but happy. The kids got to play and bounce. The parents were happy because they we wore them out with the heat and the bouncy. Life was good.

At some point, I was joking that the kids would get a bouncy every year for their birthday. So that MTV Sweet Sixteen gig...that would be a fun episode at our house, because our kids would be jumping in the bouncy. Yeah, we could get them all dolled up, escorted in a limo to their house, only to walk in and find this in the backyard.

That would be quality television.

So, I opted to get the bouncy again this year. They were a little older, even more mobile. My thinking was that they'd have even more fun in the bouncy with their pals. About a week after I made the arrangements to rent the bouncy, and about 4 days before the party, I'm up late, watching the news. (Yes, the 10 O'clock news is late for me, or it was a week ago.) And I see that it is going to rain rain rain and be cold the day of the party. As if the stupid weatherman in which I've never had faith in was talking smack right to me, he adds a graphic of a rubber ducky with a rain coat on splashing in puddles while it's pooring on him. We all know what duck rhymes with, and I said it, loudly. My perfect plan was being foiled. Darn that nemesis, the weather man.

I called the rental place, weighed out my options, and we decided to call that stinky weather man's bluff. If we needed to, we could call the day of the party and cancel. And where would that leave me? Stuck in a house with 15 four-year-olds. Now, if any of you moms out there who attended the party are reading this, let me say, your children are all well behaved angels. It's me. As mentioned here, I'm a bit nervous around kids. So, it's not you, or your kids, it's me. I'm willing to sacrifice this borderline anxiety attack for the sake of my kids. But I needed a plan B, and that's when I found a place who comes in and does the party for you! WHAT? You come in and do the party for me?!!! Except the cake, right? Nope. Except the games, right? NOPE. Cups, plates, party favors?They do it alllll. They even keep the list of who gave what when opening presents. And I'll be calling them next year.

This year's party turned out great. For one day out of the year, I'll have all of Max and Lucy's friends come over and play. We played a few games, tried to bounce in the bouncy, but it was cold and wet. And we had a pinata! That's always fun...four year olds and a bat. Also, I learned, if in doubt, whip that cake out. Whew, that was nice.

I did lose it just a bit when the kids were opening presents. Like the good little Maid of Honor at a wedding shower, I was trying to keep track of who gave what for the sake of thank you notes. The kids kept coming in closer and closer to see all the cool stuff. In the kids' defense, what kind of terrible game is that, "Okay kids, circle round so we can all see all the cool stuff someone else is getting!" At some point I felt like I was in the middle of Michael Jackson's Thriller, where the zombies just keep coming closer...closer...closer. I got a bit short of breath and in a last ditch effort to, uh, stay conscience, I announced, "Okay Kids, Mommy's getting a little CROWDED. EVERYONE STOP AND BACK UP!" It was in a pretty good bitchy tone. Sorry.

Then the sun came out, and the kids went out to the bouncy. I snuck some rum into my Coke, and things got fuzzy after that. That's the thing about kid parties. Serving alcohol is sort of frowned upon. However, I can throw an adult party. That's all you need is good food, and alcohol, and you're in. You don't even need at theme, or heck, you don't even need a reason. Everyone is happy. If you don't drink, you've got the delicious food and fabulous conversation asking me for all my recipes telling me I'm the best cook ever. If you do drink, you're all set with my inherited trait of mixing a great drink, asking for all my recipes because I'm the best bartender ever. I can mix a MEAN scotch on the rocks. Fo Sho!

Sigh, so, in hindsight, I'm hoping I didn't freak all the moms out with my little outburst. And I'm hoping all the kids had a good time. Max and Lucy have cited that it was the best party ever. And in the end, that's all that matters, right?

That's how I roll.